Title: Kiss.

Author: AspergianStoryteller.

Genre: Supernatural/General.

Summary: When a dementor tried to Kiss Harry Potter, it got more than it bargained for. And Harry did not walk away unaffected. Don't own Harry Potter.

Apologies for the wait! Mental blockage and business took their toll. Hey, are any of you fans of Rowan of Rin by Emily Rodda, the author of Deltora Quest? I just released a oneshot about Rowan.

Chapter 35: Scouting Pillow Hill and Lands Beyond.

'I'm back,' Cedric stepped in. 'Harry, you're up. You feeling better?'

Madam Pomfrey was in right after him, wand already out.

'Afternoon, Mr Potter. Why didn't you come to me earlier?'

Why did people complain about hospital food? Harry wondered. It tasted alright. Probably the only difference was less junk food. Maybe it was muggle hospital food that tasted bad. Or maybe, he'd just been in the hospital wing so often he didn't taste the difference any more.

After Madam Pomfrey had checked him over, it was straight back to her domain for the night. Not only was this annoying and embarrassing, it was worrying. How long would he have to stay in here? It might take him ages to get control over his damn space outs.

'Good evening, Mr Potter.'

Harry jumped. His goblet nearly spilled but a for quick save.

'Hi, Professor Trelawney,' he mumbled. 'I didn't hear you. Sorry.'

'No harm done, Mr Potter,' she smiled dreamily. 'It is easy, when one is deep inside one's self to become lost to the outside world.' The Divination teacher perched herself on Harry's bed. She smelt like smoky, sweet incense and sherry.

'I find a touch of sherry calms my mind and allows greater comfort when preparing to travel outside my mortal flesh,' Trelawney said, 'though you are perhaps a bit young for it, and each to their own.'

'Um, I have some astral travel sickness pills.' Harry resettled his diner tray, feeling awkward. Should he ask her how the seers' convention was?

'Modern medicine, hm? Well, it does have its uses.'

'Yeah... So. Professor Dumbledore asked you to help me control this out-of-body thing?'

'Indeed the headmaster did approach me with the request to assist you, Mr Potter. Such a wonderful opportunity it is to guide students on their path.'

Harry wondered just how much of this was her being happy that she had more time to predict his death and warn him about it.

'I would prefer to teach in my own quarters but of course, you are confined to infirmary in your frail state.'

Aha! She was keeping an eye on his health!

'Still, it's quiet here. Now, let us begin with a meditation-'

'Um professor,' Harry interrupted, 'can I finish my dinner first? I'll be quick.'

'Alright. You know, some seers, even now days prepare for out-body-travel by fasting.' Harry chewed mashed potato and didn't bother pointing out that he wasn't a seer. Actually, she might take his dinner away if he told her he spaced out less on a full stomach. As if he'd do that. Giving people an excuse to take something away was a very stupid thing he'd learnt not to do ages ago.

When Harry was done eating he placed the tray on the bedside table. Professor Trelawney sipped from a small crystal bottle from a pocket. It smelt like sherry.

'As I was saying before, Mr Potter,' she began, 'we will begin with meditation. Before we make the journey outside ourselves, we must know ourselves. Inner peace is a necessary step for out-of-body-travel as it gives us a sense of what we are, keeps us from becoming so confused that we become utterly lost without our flesh and earthly senses.' Eh? Knowing themselves?

'To find inner peace, we go deep inside ourselves,' Trelawney was in class-lecture mode now, droning on airily. 'To go deep inside ourselves, we breath deeply and slowly, on my count. One in... out... Two in... out...'

Harry obeyed, feeling silly. Sitting in a hospital bed with a tipsy teacher, looking for their inner peace like those hippie people Uncle Vernon liked to sneer at on t.v.

'Six in... out... Seven in... out... Now we keep breathing in and out slowly, and we calm our minds. Every little worry can wait. They don't matter now - you're going to sort them later.'

Breath in one... out... Forget his worries? Forget his hospitalisation, forget the tournament? Yeah right.

'You're in a safe place. A place where you are relaxed and distracted. It might be your bed. It might be my classroom. Maybe it's your heartbeat that relaxes you.'

Relaxing? Gryffindor Tower. Warm and safe and full of friends. The sky. Space and freedom and exhilaration. His bed. Snug and comfortable. Great for bouncing on, they'd tested it. Many times.* And when the curtains were closed, it was like a secret hideaway, his own little fortress, a cubby hole.

'You are in your safe place. Surround yourself in it. With every breath you go deep into it. One in... out... Two in... out...'

His cubby hole was soft and crimson and full of shadows. Red curtains became a red sky and the blankets became a great landscape.

'Mr Potter?'

'Mr Potter?'

Harry opened his eyes. Frizzy hair and beads loomed over his face.

'Whoa!'

Trelawney moved back.

'Well done, Mr Potter,' she said. 'You went right in.'

Harry sat up. The outside world stretched out around him, somehow larger and more intense.

'That was quick,' he remarked.

Trelawney nodded.

'Your condition is helpful at this stage, as is my gift. Controlling it is not as easy. Let's try again.'

XXX xxx XXX

Harry's knees burned after crawling so long through the tunnels. He wiped sweat off his face. How much further until Pillow Hill?

'Come back, Mr Potter. Follow me...'

A familiar voice echoed in the tunnel walls. Odd, considering they were made of blanket. Later, right now he had better follow that voice out.

Harry opened his eyes. Again. The Outside World was much bigger than the tunnels and even Pillow Hill.

'Welcome back again.' Trelawney was sipping from an ornate silver flask. It smelt of sherry. 'You were faster this time. I'm so pleased with your progress,' she beamed. 'I think we shall move on to out-of-body-travel this time.'

This began with the same breathing exercise as the inside thing, but to get out, Harry imagined he was flying.

One in... out... Two in... out... soon enough, he was rising higher and becoming lighter.

Coming back to his body was like returning to solid ground after flight, going indoors after being outside. He felt, at the same time, both closed in and safe indoors.

One in... out... Two in... out... The air was so open. It was empty, and yet, it was not. Stuff was everywhere. Small and invisible, but it was there. Constantly bumping into him, going right through him. Where was somewhere safe?

Shudder. Being Sibyl/Harry/plus Something Else was peculiar. They were woman and boy! How strange! This hadn't happened in years- or was it just yesterday? A gifted Divination student, Mary/with Myrtle then Snape/Quirril.

There was a warm burn in their stomach and a fruity daze in their head.

Harry jolted back into his own body. He'd never get used to sharing with space with someone else like that. He rubbed his stomach.

Trelawney was staring at him again, as though he was something mysterious and perplexing.

'That was, quite interesting,' she remarked. 'Are you ready to try again?'

...

'Professor? Could I have a bit of that sherry please?'

The alcohol burned slightly on the way down his throat and warmed his stomach. When Harry travelled out again, it gave him something to focus on and come back to. Harry practised for nearly three hours before Madam Pomfrey sent Trelawney out and told him to go to sleep or read quietly. His mind was exhausted and he didn't dream at all.

XXX xxx XXX

Until hours of practise, meditation, his pills and a little sherry had enabled Harry to hold onto his wayward soul (this didn't stop him spacing out sometimes, though), Madam Pomfrey didn't let him return to his bed in the Tower or attend class for most of the week.

'I hope you can leave soon, Harry,' Hermione told him, 'but don't try to leave too soon. This is an opportunity to gain control of your spacing in a safe environment without distractions. And you can practise spells for the tournament,' she added.

'Sucks to be you, mate,' Ron said one afternoon tea. 'But look on the bright side. You get to do your Potions assignments away from Snape - he's been furious about the thefts - and do spells all day.'

'When Madam Pomfrey hasn't confiscated my wand and threatened to make me sleep,' Harry muttered. 'But I see your point. Anyway, how's your spellwork going?' "We may as well do this together," Hermione had said when the three of them began learning spells and techniques for the Tournament, even though only one of them actually had to compete.

Snigger.

'You should hear yourself,' Ron giggled. 'You keep squeaking!'

Harry pouted.

'Yeah, laugh it up, Ron. Your voice went pretty high when it was breaking. You remember that incident in Charms...'

'At least I wasn't taken by surprise. Five older brothers come in handy.'

'They told you horror stories and embarassing lectures. Anyway, where are you practising?'

Ron grinned.

'In the usual place, Harry.'

'How are you getting in?' Harry nearly dropped his chocolate biscuit when Ron hissed open at him.

'Holy shit, Ron,' he laughed. 'Seriously?'

'I've heard you say it enough times,' the redhead sratched his nose self-consciously. 'It sounds like choking to me, Mione says it sounds like her parents' dental patients, but it works.'

'It sounds right,' Harry said. 'I can't believe I'm missing out again.'

'You'll catch up.' Ron licked chocolate off his fingers. 'We're going pretty fast. You know how Mione is with learning new spells and stuff, and she's really into this.' He frowned. 'I'm a bit worried about her.'

'Yeah? You've said that before. You know how Mione is.'

'True, but I think this is different than Hermione cramming for tests,' Ron spoke seriously. 'There's no test for Dark magic and she's acting like it's in our O.W.L.s. And you've been stuck in here most of the time, but haven't noticed how twitchy she's been getting?'

Now Harry frowned. He'd thought Hermione was worried about the Tournament like he was, but if Ron was noticing something different from her normal study behaviour, it must be serious.

'Have you told her to take a break?' as soon as he said it, Harry knew it was dumb question. Hermione take a break from studying? Rarely.

Ron shuddered.

'Lucky I made that suggestion before we were in the Chamber. She couldn't hex me in the corridoors but I got an evil look.'

Cedric found the time between his N.E.W.T, study and Tournament prep to visit Harry as well. He was becoming a good friend.

'You'll be out of soon,' he said cheerfully. 'Just keep doing your best.'

Fleur dropped in Monday afternoon to see him, bringing with her chocolate cressants. Viktor came by on Tuesday. They talked about sport and law for a while, then the Durmstrang champion asked Harry if he and Hermione were dating. Harry figured this was because of Rita Skeeter's latest embarassing article about him. This one, featured in Witch Weekly, accused Hermione of mixing love potions and toying with his and Viktor's hearts. Load of bullshit. Hermione wouldn't do that, didn't need to do that, and was like a sister to him. Besides, she and Ron had been acting like a married couple since their first year.

After Harry was let out, Healer Nathaniel introduced him to a group of experts he'd searched up and contacted. They were mostly older people; an Unspeakable from the Ministry who couldn't say too much about his work, an rather old lady from Japan whose profession involved spiritualism, a middle-aged woman called Andromedra Tonks: she was a rare person willing or interested enough to study Dark creatures like dementors and slightly younger man from America who studdied muggle technology thouroughly and might be friends with Arthur Weasley if they met. Harry suggested the man owl him.

The attention he recieved from them on the first visit was a bit disconcerning, especially when Nathaniel told him that the situation had wound up turning into a bit of a research project.

'Of course, this project is more sensitive than usual,' he reassured Harry. 'Normally we would present our findings and documentation to the head of department every month to justify our use of funding. If the project is making good results, we get to continue. This here isn't an official research project, but it's really grown since your first visit here and I think we can learn a lot. But please don't think your health and recovery from your ordeal isn't the most important thing, Harry.'

The experts, had already read the details of the dementor attack and related information and been sworn to secrecy. They each had their own odd devices to scan him with. Robert Newcastle (the American) set up machines Harry had seen on hospital dramas and attached wires to his body. Then he had Harry climb into a thing with a hold in the middle, a C.A.T. scanner. Akiko-Sensei, the Japanese lady, had him stand in complex circular designs drawn on the floor and touch various holy artifacts, some of which glowed, sparked, smoked sparkled, shook and darkened upon contact. Broderick Bode (Mr Unspeakable) and Mrs Tonks both had their own spells, flashing, beeping devices and questions.

'How would you compare a dementor's kiss to a human's, Harry?'

'... I don't know. It was my first kiss,' Harry mumbled, mortified and blushing. Mrs Tonks blushed over her clipboard.

XXX xxx XXX

March so far was full of cold rain and sleet, but on the day Harry, Ron and Hermione went into Hogsmead to met Sirius it was mild and weak sunlight shone.

Their first stop was at Gladrags Wizardwear to buy Dobby a thank you present for Dobby: a collection of the weirdest socks they could find; ones with gold and silver shooting stars, a pair that screamed when too smelly, rainbow and scented toe-socks... picking them out was fun.

'I recommend the piano socks,' Matilda of Hufflepuff giggled, pointing out socks with black and white toes. She was a rare young deaf witch. 'They play when you walk without shoes or wiggle your toes.'

'How do you know that?' Ron asked. Matilda's dicta-chalk subtitled him on her blackboard.

'They make my toes vibrate,' she said. There were also guitar socks, violin socks (they made Harry's toes tickle) drum socks, harp socks and flute socks.

At half one they went a way they hadn't been before, up High Street, past Dervish & Banges, spread out cottages with larger gardens, into the countryside. Towards the foot of mountain was Sirius in the form of a very large but very skinny, black dog. He had several old newspapers in his mouth.

'Hi, Sirius,' Harry said, smiling when Sirius nuzzled his hand and sniffed eagerly at their bags of smuggled food.

There was a steep treck though a rocky path into the mountain cave where Sirius and Buckbeak were staying to keep a closer eye on things. They went over the events of the past week -

- 'Oh Harry, your voice!' Sirius cackled. 'It's squeaky! Oh don't glare at me like that, it's part of my job as godfather to laugh at you.' He hugged Harry and sighed, 'My cute godson is growing up.'

Harry's extra lessons with Trelawney -

- 'Sherry?' Sirius grinned. Ron's eyebrows went up.

'Don't think anything of it,' Harry crossed his arms. 'It's not like I got drunk.'

'You should try firewhiskey next time,' Sirius suggested. 'That'll put some heat in your stomach.'

'It's not appropriate for a teacher to give a student alcohol,' Hermione said, frowning. 'Don't drink any more than a few mouthfuls.'

- and eventually moved onto the Triwizard Tournament.

'That was an interesting spell you used against the horntail, Harry,' Sirius remarked. 'I forgot to bring it up before.'

'Moody showed us it in class,' Harry mumbled.

'Oh yeah?' Sirius' eyes glinted. 'Would you show me?'

'Okay.' Harry pulled out his wand and aimed it well away from Buckbeak.

'Cultri mittere!' A few knives materialised and skidded against the dirty floor. They were a mixed set; some looked like the knives they used in Potions while others were more like the Dursleys' stainless steel kitchen blades.

'Whoo!' Sirius whistled. 'Wicked.' His eyes were lit up. 'Now that's dangerous! Show me again, will you?'

Harry repeated the spell. More knives clattered down.

'Alright, could I borrow your wand a moment? Cheers. Cultri mittere!'

After several tries, his silvery, elegant and leathal curved blades landed amongst Harry's. Shing! Clang!

'Awesome knives, Sirius!' Ron exclaimed. 'Where are they from?'

'They're based off the knives from my old house,' Sirius said, examining them. 'I have to admit they are pretty cool.'

'Yeah.' Ron picked one up. 'Merlin, Sirius, what kind of house did you live in? These sure don't look like kitchen knives!'

Sirius frowned. Hermione hissed,

'You could have put that more tactfully!'

'It's alright,' Sirius told them. 'I didn't get along with my family. Bunch of Dark wizards.'

'Seriously?'

'Siriusly.' They all snorted. 'It was better when I came to Hogwarts and made friends there.' He smiled, a little sadly, at Harry. Harry smiled sadly back.

'Now then!' he changed subjects. 'It's not against the rules for me to help you out, and if were, well, screw the rules. The Tournament is buggered up anyway. I'm going to teach you three some tricks.'

XXX xxx XXX

Yay, I graded! I'm now a blue-belt. :D

Sensei - teacher, doctor, professional...

I've got another question for you, readers. You know those preparing-for-real-life sort of classes they have in some schools where kids care for a fake baby for a week? If they did that at Hogwarts, do you reckon the babies would be A) a realistic doll/gollem, B) a de-aged human volunteer or C) a volunteer house elf?